Complexities
by Epithelial
Summary: Kazahaya, lost in memories that he can’t tell are his or not, seeks solace in the only place he knows. Rated for language, implications. RikuoKazahaya.


**Complexities**

By Heroin Girl

It was raining.

The first thought that really registered in his mind was not that of his fallen sister, but of one about the weather.

_And the rain will fall like blood…_

He shook his head, still feeling the smooth, cold lips of the girl just above his shoulder. The drops fell together until they were blurred, like the lines in a watercolour painting. Sometimes, that was what he thought life was. One grand finale, and then it's done with you, no matter if you still had yet to burn up. He was the Rossetti of his century, he thought with a wry smile. Now it was time to dig up his lover and harvest the poems. And she would not have changed one bit.

His sister's name was Kei, he told himself firmly. She was real. She lived, she breathed, she had fucking **hunted** him… and yet he could not make himself stop loving her. His one sin, his only sin.

_Forgive me father…_

Her name was Tsukiko. And she was truly the moon's child, he had never been able to keep track of all the times when he would come across her looking blissfully out her window, sighing at the waning moon. And she was always so beautiful.

And the rain still fell as his thoughts mixed and merged with each other, twisting and turning until he did not know where one ended and another began. He felt like the time when he and his childhood friend Hiro had downed a third of a bottle of Smirnoff each (Who was Hiro? He thought drearily. She would never let me have friends!), just before it really began to soak into their systems, but enough to get them good and drunk. The burning in his throat had frightened him, and he had clung to Hiro like a man lost in the jungle. They had kissed briefly, the spit and flavor of the vodka turning out to be a not entirely unpleasant taste altogether. But then as they clumsily felt for each other, **she** had walked in.

He paused in the thought, firmly reminding himself that he was NOT gay.

The reprimand did nothing to stop the small flow of memories into his eyes. And Hiro had been so scared because Miss Tsukiko had told others that she was a witch and she would eat all the little boys who didn't listen to her. He had disentangled himself from Hiro and told him that he that he was twelve and not a little boy, but a man, and men didn't . Nothing had worked. He had the fled the house in the corner of the woods in tears.

But for a moment, he had almost started to cry Hiro's tears for him. Kazahaya let himself go into this one indulgence and began to weep prettily. Usually when he cried, it was big, loud tears. He almost wished that someone

(Rikuo)

was here, to see him weep with such grace. The pictures that flowed though his mind had stopped using consistency and sense long ago. He could feel the small sensation of an ant crawling up his arm, but when he looked down, nothing was there. He wondered if he was going crazy. Then he remembered that if you were crazy, you thought that you were getting saner, that you thoughts were clearer than before. But if you were crazy and thought that you were fine, what happened to all of those people who just thought that they were crazy and reminded themselves of this fact? What did that mean about them, was the question and theory itself the beginnings of a mental illness, or was it just plain overanalyzing?

He wished that he could stop thinking.

He heard the low murmur of Kei's voice in his hair, her breath playing the single strands of fine honey brown tresses. He wanted so badly to take her up in his arms and try to explain, how he had not meant to hurt her. He wanted to make her feel the pain that he was felt as he was running from his own goddamn fucking SISTER, he wanted to make her hurt.

And he would, in good time.

_If you were a man, you'd fuck me right now. Right here._

"Stop it, Kei!" He screamed, filling his hands with the lock of his hair. And Jesus, he could feel her hands on him, and he tried so hard to tell her that this was wrong, that she should not want to fuck her brother. And then Daddy was hurting her and all he could do was watch and her hands smelled like lavender and they were cool and please god, make her stop touching me.

And he had shoved her. Hard. He would never forget the sound that her head made as she hit the large rock in the river, how her (good, clean) blood had begun to flow from her head and her ears. It sounded like an icicle hitting the ground, it sounded like a thousand things that should not be and the winter and the cold.

And he had wanted to die because he hurt her. But she was still alive, his acute extra senses could hear the faint beating of her heart and he was picked her up and she was limp and raggedy, like a flower, picked and left out in the sun too long. Making sure that she was safe, he had left her on the riverbank, the dying sun filling her hair and making it look like it was made of blood.

And for an inane, nonsensical moment, he knew that it was. Blood was all she ever was and ever had been, blood and all of the things that surround it.

And she still hunted him.

_And you tasted like rosemary. _

He slipped out of his memories and searched through the others. The name of his other half escaped him for the moment, but he knew that he was tall and dark and he was so beautiful and … He loved him.

**Rikou**, a small voice told him. **His name is Rikuo.** And the name was perfect.

It would be the last time he let Rikuo kiss him. He could not tell where his memories were. And he needed them so badly, so he did not think of the warm candy upon his. He did not think of the dark hair and the pale skin of the one he loved. Besides, Rikuo loved another. And her name was Tsukiko, the moon child who was the answer to all of the questions that shouldn't have been asked in the first place.

But for now, he would pretend that he was Tsukiko, so he could know what it was like to be loved. Even if the love wasn't real, even if it meant that he was subjecting to some inner, base reality in which all was good and he could love with out the fear of Kei.

With out her, with out her cool hands that always had tasted of lavender oil, pure and unfiltered, with out her long hair and teasing lips. And he felt whole with out her. And that scared him so badly. He had lived his life thinking that in order to be, he needed her near him, somewhere, anywhere, but close all the same. What do you do when your foundation cracks and nothing takes its place? What do you do when all you've ever believed is sudden gone?

He felt as if he was drowning. Drowning in the nothing.

So he opened his mouth and invited more water into his lungs.

And in the darkness of his mind, Kazahaya smiled once more, a brilliant reflection of light, goodness and all we have to fear as a human race. The devil with in was screaming to be let out, but he just pulled the restraints tighter.

And in the darkness of his mind, a little part of him died.

_For I have sinned. _

**End**.

Holy FUCK, that was so weird! Sorry that my writing was much less than par, but I was trying to create a certain feeling of… A fucked up Kazahaya. See, my thoughts really aren't that complex. In case you didn't get it, Kazahaya and Rikuo kissed, and he was overwhelmed with all of the memories. I just realized how easy it is so come up with twisted stuff for R and K's background. But it was really fun to write. I'm thinking about doing a companion from Rikuo's POV. That would be cool. Loved it, hated it? You can tell me about what you thought in your REVIEW!


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